


Better Than Meds

by Kalira



Series: Valentine's Spectacular (2018) [9]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Caring, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Hardison, Multi, Sharing Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 04:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13651755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Hardison is a little the worse for wear and definitely feeling the effects of a wrong-place, wrong-time incident on the last job. Eliot and Parker just want to make things better for him.





	Better Than Meds

Hardison groaned in pain as the bed shuddered beneath him, his ribs aching even more as the mattress bounced beneath him.

He cracked an eye open. “Parker.” he said, wincing.

Parker froze, halfway through sliding from a seated position to lounging beside him. “Sorry!” she said, expression twisting.

“It’s- It’s fine.” Hardison said, shifting a bit and whimpering as his cracked ribs shifted and his battered and sore muscles protested movement of any kind.

“Hardison.” He looked up to see Eliot coming nearer. “It’s time for your pills.”

Hardison sighed shallowly, wincing. He was more than ready for them if they would even slightly dull the pain again, but to take them he would have to move, which was currently one of his least favourite things.

Parker sat up and leaned down close, helping Hardison to sit up with as little bending of changing of positions as possible. Eliot offered the pills, then the glass he held in the other. He didn’t ever quite let go of it as Hardison drank, which was a mild irritation but was probably for the best; Hardison’s hands were none too steady at the moment.

Once Hardison had finished the water Eliot put the empty glass on the nightstand, and Hardison returned to his mostly prone position with Parker’s assistance. “Ow.” he said weakly, then startled as a warm, callused hand wrapped around his own, squeezing gently. He looked over.

Eliot had seated himself in the chair beside the bed, and he raised an eyebrow at Hardison as though daring him to comment. Hardison was too tired - pain was exhausting - and too grateful for the company to needle Eliot right now no matter how fun it was usually.

“Broken ribs suck.” Hardison said, careful to breathe shallowly.

Parker leaned sideways, almost lying herself down over his right shin and patted his knee. “We know.” she said evenly. “Really though, broken ribs aren’t so bad; from where you were standing if they had only-”

“Parker.” Eliot said sharply, and Parker frowned as she fell silent. Hardison felt a little ill, and he shook his head before closing his eyes and letting his head sink a little more into the pillows. He didn’t want to think about what _else_ could have. . .

Eliot squeezed his hand, and Hardison smiled slightly, squeezing back. His breathing steadied again and the stabbing pain in his ribs that had been getting stronger faded again.

In fact. . .

“Are those different pills?” Hardison asked, noticing vaguely that his voice sounded spacey. Or maybe it was just very far away. He was beginning to feel floaty and even a little euphoric, although he could have sworn that five minutes ago he’d wanted nothing more than to be knocked out until his ribs stopped feeling like a bag of knives. “I thought I didn’t get the _good_ drugs. Even though I got all beat up. For justice. And all I got for it was broken ribs.”

“And two pre-teen girls who didn’t get kidnapped or beaten.” Eliot reminded gently, his thumb stroking over Hardison’s knuckles.

Parker’s hand smoothed up and down his thigh as her slender legs settled alongside his upper arm. “You did good, Hardison.” she said.

“Yeah. Go me.” Hardison said, wincing even as he opened his eyes, though not at the pain, for a change. “Getting beat up for justice. Not a great niche. Can I put in for a better one? A transfer?”

Eliot kissed his knuckles. “I’d prefer you left that job to me.” he said dryly, nuzzling Hardison’s fingers. “But yeah. Proud of you, darlin’.”

Hardison smiled, and then finally, looking at his hand cradled in Eliot’s, realised why he felt so much better. “You- You’re taking-”

Parker patted him gently, and Hardison glanced down at her. Her tanktop left her arms bare, and the inside of her upper arm was snug against his bare ankle. “Don’t fuss.” she said, smiling crookedly. “You deserve it.”

“Rest, if you can.” Eliot suggested, thumb rubbing little circles over the back of Hardison’s hand again.

Hardison frowned slightly, though it was kind of difficult to focus through the light, spinny feeling left behind as his soulmates took his pain. Harder even than it had been to think through the pain itself - although mainly what he’d been able to focus on had been how badly he hurt. He wondered vaguely if the dizzying feeling was so strong always, or if it was stronger now because of how much pain he had been in before they took it.

And Hardison hadn’t needed anything to tell him they were tough, both of them, scary tough, but if he had this would definitely do it - even split between them, to take every last stabbing ache from Hardison’s body was no small task, and neither of them were showing a sign of strain or pain. He felt guilty - he didn’t like to let them do this even for smaller hurts, and this was a big one - but the relief was . . . immense.

“Stop thinking.” Parker scolded, pinching his thigh lightly. It was a strange sensation, with barely a flash of the sting - mild as it was - he would have expected from being pinched. “Do what Eliot said. Try and sleep or something. Your ribs have been keeping you up and you need rest.”

“You need the rest to heal and this isn’t going to hurt us.” Eliot backed her up before Hardison could protest.

Hardison sighed - for the first time in days it didn’t make him want to cry, for the past few days even shallow breaths had been a trial that made him wish he could stop breathing until he was healed. “I-”

“Hardison.” Eliot and Parker said together, interrupting him. Eliot squeezed his hand tighter and Parker nudged her ankle against his shoulder.

Hardison smiled sheepishly. “I- Not for too long, okay?” he said, glancing between them. “I don’t want- This _is_ hurting you and I don’t want. . .”

“We’ll be fine.” Parker said with a light pat to his shin.

Hardison tugged gently at Eliot’s hand, and he hummed, caressing thumb shifting patterns. “Would you- Come up here too?” he asked, tugging again - about as much as he could do; even without the pain his body was still exhausted and weak. And even if they didn’t hurt right now, he knew his ribs were still broken and his body still bruised and damaged.

Eliot smiled, dipping his head, then rose from his chair. He leaned over to kiss Hardison’s brow, then slid onto the bed himself, stretching out on his side, propped up on one elbow. He didn’t release Hardison’s hand as he moved, though it complicated the process a bit.

“Thanks.” Hardison said, closing his eyes, and nudged Parker’s ribs with his knee to include her. She stroked up and down his leg again, her body a warm, solid presence pressed up against his right side.

“Love you.” Eliot murmured by way of an answer, his fingers twining between Hardison’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Look me up on [Tumblr](http://kalira9.tumblr.com/) to chat, see me flail about fandom, or give me a story prompt!


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